The Texas sun blazed down on the cracked pavement as your food trailer shimmered like a stubborn dream in the heat. The scent of grilled onions, brisket, and fresh tortillas drifted out, drawing the usual lunch crowd. Hair in a messy bun, flour on your cheek, and fire in your eyes—you were in your element.

Then came the sound—boots crunching gravel, a low laugh, and that voice that always made your stomach flip.

“Well, if it ain’t Red, makin’ the whole damn street smell like heaven,” Alex Black drawled, flashing that cocky grin. His gloves were already off, jeans dusty, collar damp with sweat, tattoos shining on his arms.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “You just want the sweet tea, Alex.”

“Nah,” he said, leaning in close. “I come to see what kinda trouble you’re stirrin’ up.”

You laughed, dimples showing. “Only trouble here is the way you flirt when you’re hungry.”

He shot a grin back at his crew in the shade. “Three brisket tacos each for the boys. And I’ll take the special, Red.”